Private Monaco

Chapter 68

Mo-bot and Sci stumbled into a service area. Above their heads, a large duct ran the length of the corridor. As they dashed on, breathless and exhausted, they saw doorways to their right. They sprinted past a series of offices before reaching an intersection with another corridor. They turned as their pursuers entered the corridor behind them, and the gunman took a few potshots. The bullets hit the wall behind them as Sci led them down a branching corridor, which opened out into a wider space.

To their left was an office, to their right a huge industrial laundry full of large washing machines and steaming presses. Ahead of them was a loading bay, and beyond the vehicle area was a raised roller shutter that opened onto the street.

“Come on!” Mo-bot told Sci, pushing him toward the loading bay.

She glanced back to see the four gangsters enter the corridor. She and Sci ran through an archway into the vehicle area. She pushed him to the right and followed him, out of the path of the gunfire that whined through the air around them.

“Jeez!” Sci exclaimed, jumping down from the loading platform into one of the vehicle bays.

Mo-bot followed, and the two of them sprinted across the bay toward the roller shutter and the street beyond. They were inches away from escape. Mo-bot could see the Avenue de Grande Bretagne at the end of the alleyway that accessed the loading bay. They were going to come out very close to the cab rank that served the hotel.

“Nearly there,” Mo-bot told Sci breathlessly, and he nodded.

There was another shot, but this time there was no ricochet or rush of whipped air as the bullet failed to find its mark. Instead, there was a quiet grunt from Sci and a misstep that sent him lurching forward as they cleared the shutter.

He stumbled and fell into the alleyway. Mo-bot realized he’d been shot in the back, near his right shoulder. The bloodstain was already spreading across his T-shirt.

“Don’t you stop on me!” she yelled, grabbing him. “Get up, Seymour!”

She slipped her arm under his and was grateful when he pulled himself up. She couldn’t have carried him.

He smiled thinly, his face as pale as a cloud-covered winter sky.

“I’m still here,” he said, and together they staggered to the end of the alleyway.

Mo-bot guided Sci toward the cab rank a short distance away, supporting him as they stumbled to the first vehicle.

“We need to get my friend to hospital,” she told the driver, who looked startled and afraid.

Mo-bot followed his gaze, glancing over her shoulder to see the gunman emerge from the loading bay. She didn’t wait for the driver to respond, opened the rear door and shoved Sci inside.

“Just get us to a hospital,” she yelled, stepping into the vehicle.

She heard two shots and immediately registered two stabs of searing pain in her back around her left kidney.

She slumped forward onto Sci and heard the roar of an engine. She was vaguely aware of the cab moving off at speed but she was on her own journey, one that tuned out life, color and light and sent her into inescapable darkness.